The morning arrived with a silence too loud to trust.
Jakob slept between them, safe for now, his breath even and peaceful. But Orla didn’t sleep. Neither did Stanley.
He had held her through the night, their legs tangled, her head on his chest. Not for heat. Not for s*x. But for something much rarer—for safety. For love that didn’t need to prove itself.
When she finally slid from bed, Stanley followed her.
She stepped into the stale motel bathroom, splashing water on her face.
He came up behind her, resting a hand on her waist. Their eyes met in the mirror.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered. “But I love you.”
The words had slipped out before she could stop them. And she didn’t take them back.
Stanley froze behind her, then his grip on her waist tightened.
“I love you too
